Lanterns
by hongkongstar
Summary: I keep on trying to start not to stop, often on, often off. Don't you start cause I can't stop. Androgyny. CloudLeon.


**Please read this on my writing LJ (listed as homepage), as it is a collaboration with accompanying artworks.**

Might be continued, might not be. I'm as of yet; undecided. **  
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**Leon wonders if he should be wary. He hates to wonder, and yet, here he is, led astray by some foreign spirit, taken far from any path he knows, far from any place he knows how to get back home from. 

Cloud stands in front of him, and this Cloud is different from the one Leon knows. But perhaps Leon is wrong, and never knew as much as he thought he did. Leon has never thought of Cloud as more than a man, a warrior, possibly a friend. But the night and the streetlights make decisions sharp and rash, and when he saw Cloud he followed Cloud, and now he is here.

"What do you want?" Cloud demands, and he is angry, perhaps. But he had led Leon here, had told him to come inside, had left the door open and the bedroom light on, a will o' the wisp too bright for him to ignore.

"I don't know," Leon says, but he doesn't look away.

Cloud shifts, agitated. He hasn't taken his coat off, and it hangs open, soft grey lines framing his body, the clothes he wears. The reason Leon is here, maybe, but he wonders if it's the clothes themselves or the fact that they made him look at Cloud, made him stop and wonder.

It's the dress that's the most obvious, of course. Black and smooth, it stops barely halfway down Cloud's thighs, leaving a few inches of skin-tight grey-blue jeans before the boots start, black and form fitting, the heels pushing his body up into a shape Leon has never seen on a man before. And yet, for all that, Cloud does not look like a man wearing women's clothes, nor does he look like a woman. Caught somewhere in between, the sharpness of his shoulders and tightness of his hips to the curving lines of his calves and back. Androgyny thick in the fall of his hair, the strength of his jaw line and fullness of his mouth.

Leon finds he cannot look away. Does not want to look away.

"Do you want to know why?" Cloud asks, and he pulls at the wide collar of the coat for a second, as if nervous.

"No," Leon says, and his gaze is caught in Cloud's long fingers as his hand drops to his side again, the cuff of the coat covering his hand to the knuckles.

Cloud steps closer, but he's tipped into anger again, the vulnerability of a few moments ago suddenly burnt away by the rage that simmers low and heated in his eyes. His hands curl. "Do you want to fuck me?" he hisses. "Think wearing a dress made me grow a pussy?"

He pushes into Leon's boundaries, one calf sliding into the v of his open legs. Cloud is not a short man, and the height the boots give him leaves him looming over where Leon sits, face cast into shadow, eyes still smudged incandescent, pure blue.

"No," Leon says, and Cloud frowns.

This close, Leon can see the fabric of the dress shift over his chest and stomach as he breathes. He raises one hand, touches it against Cloud's abdomen, the smooth fabric of the dress bunching against his fingertips as he pushes them upwards, presses his hand slowly and firmly against Cloud's body.

And Cloud inhales, exhales, but doesn't move away.

He pulls the hem of the dress up until he finds the top of the jeans, slides his fingers underneath, grazing his nails against the skin hidden. Cloud's breathing hitches, and Leon flips the button free, hooks his fingers in Cloud's beltloops and pulls the fabric apart, the zipper grinding open.

He isn't surprised to find Cloud's wearing women's underwear as well. Thin cotton shorts, stretched full over the shape of his cock. There's already some thickness to it, and Leon rubs his thumb along the fabric, pressing it into shape. He leans forward, opens his mouth against the cotton, breathing hotly, licking and sucking the material wet and clinging. Cloud's thigh muscles twitch under his hands, and he glances up briefly to see Cloud watching him, breath coming quicker, erratic, fingernails digging tight into his palms.

It doesn't take much after that before Leon has Cloud's cock down his throat. The dress is bunched around Cloud's hips, the jeans barely open against his thighs, black girl shorts pulled down just far enough for his cock to slide unhindered between Leon's lips, and Cloud isn't making any noise except for choked off gasps caught somewhere in his throat.

Leon's hands are hard at his thighs and arse, insistent and tugging, pulling Cloud into a rough thrusting rhythm, fucking Leon's mouth, hitting the back of his throat and Leon just moans into it, lips tight and wet, throat constricting erratically.

Cloud is hissing between clenched teeth now, one hand caught lightly in Leon's hair, fingers pressing hard each time Leon swallows.

He's hard, painfully hard, cock twitching untouched in his trousers, but he doesn't think he can risk taking his hands off Cloud, the feel of the dress and jeans under his fingers, the hard muscle beneath. It's like textural overload, silk and rough and the fullness of his throat open and abused, his lips sore and tongue feeling swollen. The smell of clean sweat and wet cotton, pre-come and some sort of biting citrus scent that's too light and fragile to be cologne.

He looks at Cloud through his eyelashes and can see the flush rising over his cheeks, his lower lip caught so hard between his teeth that the skin around them is turning white. His eyes are closed, thick eyelashes dusty against his cheeks, but as Leon watches they slit open, iridescent blue smeared dark with want.

He moans and Cloud's hand clenches tight and painful in his hair and then he's biting out "_Fuck_," and coming thick down Leon's throat. He doesn't stop thrusting, and Leon can't swallow past it so soon it's overflowing, trailing messy from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. His cock jerks hard with every pulse of Cloud's come down his throat, and he thinks he might just come in his pants like a teenager when Cloud's pulling out, sliding down unsteadily and somehow landing straddling Leon's lap.

He's breathing heavily, arm wound round Leon's shoulders and head dipped low, hair brushing against Leon's cheek.

"Thought you didn't want to fuck me," he finally says, but it's delivered with none of the ire from before. He meets Leon's eyes easy, and his pupils are still half-blown with pleasure.

"I don't," Leon says, voice rough, and then he's distracted by Cloud's thumb wiping the come away from one side of his mouth.

"Right," Cloud says, sounding a little sceptical, and then his hand's trailing down Leon's chest and opening his fly, pushing inside and wrapping around his cock. His pants are damp, soaked through with pre-come and Cloud's shifting his way closer, tugging smoothly, squeezing just right and his thumb sliding across the sensitive bit under the head like it was made to be there.

His cock jerks hard in Cloud's hand, leaking more pre-come, and then Cloud's stroking again, muttering, "Fuck, you really liked that, didn't you."

His mouth opens against Leon's chin, sucking his come off his skin and his tongue winding its way past Leon's parted lips and then Leon's coming wet and hard between Cloud's hand and his stomach, hips jerking shortly, clutching at Cloud's thighs like a lifeline.

"Okay," Cloud murmurs a few minutes later, wiping his hand off on the front of Leon's shirt. "It's late. You can sleep here."

He ends up naked in Cloud's bed, fighting the heaviness of his eyelids, the lax sated feeling soaking through every muscle, watching Cloud undress in the warm light from the one lamp he's left on.

He falls asleep as he's down to the jeans and nothing else, muscles hard and smoothly defined beneath finely tanned skin. His body is painted beautifully in shadow and soft light, silhouette dancing across the wall like some long gone, far unreachable spirit.


End file.
